


Summertime

by wordcraze



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordcraze/pseuds/wordcraze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn kills himself, and he wakes up in a strange world populated with people who have committed suicide. Then he meets a boy named Harry who changes his (after)life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summertime

Zayn remembers the morning he killed himself. He recalls the red streams of blood leaving his wrists like satin ribbons floating in the bath water. After that, it all went black, and he woke up here. A small town that people called The Shade. 

It was cloudy, and dismal, and most of the buildings are on the brink of falling apart, but they manage to stay in tact, which is extraordinary. During the day, the sun beats down on the pavement, and it feels like Florida in the summer, but it's a little more bearable at night. People don't smile. Zayn begins to think that people _can't_ smile, and when he tries for himself, he finds that he's right. 

He gets a job at a coffee shop, and the owner is nice enough to give him a room just above the shop. It's cramped, dusty, and no matter how much he draws the curtain back, there's no sunlight. Sometimes he sits by the window, and he looks at the scars on his wrists, regretting how he had killed himself. This strange afterlife was a fraction worse than his earthly life, but what did he expect? Paradise? 

Zayn has a new roommate. He's a bubbly Irish boy named Niall, and it's bizarre to see him here in The Shade. Niall speaks in a way that's so animated, but he's unable to smile, so he ends up groaning in frustration. 

"How do I show I'm happy?" he asks Zayn one day. 

Zayn shrugs. "I guess you just have to say that you're happy." 

It's rude to ask how someone killed themselves, but judging by the bruise around Niall's neck, he had probably hanged himself. Niall doesn't bother hiding it. No one really bothers to hide how they died, and their scars and bruises are out in the open, like stories. 

"I've gotta get out of here," Zayn puts down his beer, and walks to the edge of the roof of their building. He and Niall sometimes go up to the roof at night, just to see how far the town spreads out. For now, they're too afraid of the unknown to go explore for themselves. 

"Everyone wants to get out of here," Niall takes another sip of beer. "But what are you gonna do? Kill yourself?" 

Zayn steps right to the very edge of the roof, "What do you think will happen? If I do try and kill myself again." 

Niall gets up, and tugs Zayn back from the ledge, "Don't be stupid." 

Zayn lets himself be tugged back because the truth was, he wasn't too keen on seeing where he'd go if he tried to off himself again. He knew there would be consequences to his actions, but he didn't know it would just be a worse version of his previous reality. It wasn't hell, which he's thankful for. No demons poking him with pitchforks. But he didn't even feel dead. He felt so alive, stuck in a place he can't ever leave. So maybe this _was_ hell. 

\--- 

Zayn drags Niall out of bed the next morning, and pushes him in the car. 

"We're going to find a way out of here," he says, and Niall just grunts in return before curling up in his seat to go back to sleep. 

All Zayn can see is endless desert, and he is afraid he'd be doomed to drive down this road for the rest of eternity. But he spots a lone figure standing off to the side, and it catches him so off guard, the car skids to a stop causing Niall to jolt awake. 

"Fuck, Zayn. What the hell?" 

Zayn points to a boy just sanding there, squinting in the sun, with a backpack hanging off his shoulders. "Look, a boy." 

Niall looks out the window, and rubs his eyes, "What, like you've never seen one?" 

Zayn rolls down the window, and the boy approaches them, looking tired and flustered. 

"Hey," he pulls off his beanie, smooths back his brown curls, and tugs the beanie on again. "Where are you guys headed?" 

Zayn doesn't even know the answer to this, so he shrugs and points ahead, "Um, like... there?" 

The boy looks to where Zayn points, and he raises a brow, "There. Okay. Vague. Can I get a ride?" 

His name is Harry. He tells them he ended up in another town after he died, and has been hitchhiking around ever since. Zayn is relieved at the mention of other towns, but he's unsure where to go. He believes there's got to be a place better than this. 

"I'm looking for a way out of here," Harry says. "A way back." 

"Back where? To life?" Niall snorts. "Where do you think you are?" 

Harry stares out the window at the dry and desolate landscape. "I'm not supposed to be here. It's a mistake." He continues to say that he's looking for the people in charge, because those are bound to exist even in the afterlife. "Spirit guides" he calls them, and he claims there are always spirit guides in charge of every soul. 

"You believe in that?" Zayn asks. 

"We're roaming around in a world inhabited by dead people, and you're asking me if I believe in higher powers?" 

That shuts Zayn up. Maybe there are higher beings pulling the strings, and if Harry is right, then he could ask for a way out too. 

\- - - 

They take turns driving, and when it gets late, they pull over to the side of the road and sleep in the car. Sleeping like this starts to take a toll on their bodies, so they search through every gas station they come across until they find tents and sleeping bags. Zayn manages to get a map too, so they aren't completely clueless during their travels. 

It gets a little cooler at night, so Niall retreats to his tent, and goes right to sleep, but Harry and Zayn stay up. They sit close to the small fire, occasionally tossing sticks into the flame to keep it burning. 

"Why'd you do it?" Harry asks, looking at Zayn's wrists. 

Zayn pulls his sleeves down over his scars, and he makes a face. "Same reason as most people. I lost hope in everything. I didn't see how things could get better." 

"That's--" 

"Vague. I know," Zayn stares at the fire before focusing on Harry. "What about you? Why'd you do it?" 

Harry shakes his head. "I didn't. I mean... I wanted to sometimes. But the way I got here wasn't by my choice. I took too many sleeping pills. I just wanted to sleep for a long time. Not sleep forever." 

"Why'd you want to sleep for a long time?" 

"I guess same reason as you," Harry shrugs. "I lost hope. But I was willing to try again the next day. Just never got a chance." 

Zayn frowns, and he pokes at the fire with a stick, unsure what to say at this revelation. "I'm sorry," he says after a long silence. "You shouldn't be here." 

"Yeah, well... none of us should. Bet you'd take it all back if you had a choice." 

Zayn doesn't reply. He just nods. 

\- - - 

They ask around for any sort of clue about the people in charge. There are rumors that the ones in charge are hiding among them, scouting out those who have a good case, and they send them right back to life for a second chance. But they're nothing but rumors, and the boys have yet to find concrete evidence. There's no one else looking for a way out except them, like everyone in this dim little world had just rolled over and accepted their fate. The boys see the hopelessness in everyone's eyes; in the man working at the gas station, the waitresses at the diners, the woman they passed at a fruit stand. 

"It's like they've all given up," Harry props his chin on his arm while staring out the open window. "Maybe if we stay here long enough, we'll be just like them." 

They stop at a diner, and they get an order of fries and chocolate shakes. Niall gets in a heated conversation about football with the boy in the next table, while Harry and Zayn enjoy their order. Well, they don't quite "enjoy" it. It isn't quite as pleasant as the food during their earthy life. The fries are cold, soggy, and flavorless, and the milkshakes are too frothy, with more milk than chocolate. Harry and Zayn give up on eating the fries, and end up making french fry art on their plates. The fries are soggy enough to bend, so they twist it into roads and trees, and even a little vehicle. 

"This is you," Harry makes a stick figure out of his fries, and looks at Zayn. "I'd give him a ketchup smile, but it wouldn't be realistic, would it?" 

Zayn tries to move the corners of his lips upward, but it's physically impossible to do so, and he gives up after a few seconds. "I love diners," he says. "Well, I did when I was alive. They were exciting, you know? It's a quick stop in the middle of a trip, and you sit there, just resting and waiting, wondering what the rest of the journey will be like. Or it's the destination after a long night with your friends, and you're a little bit drunk, and pancakes have never tasted so good." 

Harry draws a ketchup smile on the french fry stick figure. "You get a little brighter when you talk about your life. It makes me sad." 

"Why?" 

"Because you miss it, I think. And I think it's worse when you kill yourself, but then you end up missing your life, and all the little trivial things seem so big and wonderful. It's just sad," he frowns. "It's alright for me because I didn't mean to die, and I know I'm not supposed to be here. But you--" 

"I'm supposed to be here. That's what you're saying?" 

Harry shakes his head. "No. You should just be somewhere better." 

\- - - 

Night falls quickly, and Niall is curled up in his tent again, leaving Harry and Zayn sitting in front of the campfire. Zayn always likes this part. Sitting here in the darkness with the light of the fire dancing on Harry's skin, Zayn almost feels _okay_ with this new world. Just by looking at him, Zayn knows Harry doesn't belong here. He's so full of life, and promise, and someone like that shouldn't have to waste away in a dark and hopeless dimension. 

"What'd you think the afterlife was going to be like?" Zayn asks. 

Harry stares into the flame, and there's a slight hesitation before he shakes his head, "Not like this, obviously. I thought it would be a little brighter. Clearer. Not so muddled, and fuzzy, like you're looking through bad eyeglasses," he pauses again, and his lips twitch like he wants to smile. "It's a bit funny, but... I imagined it in the way Gandalf describes it to Pippin in _The Return of the King_." He takes a deep breath, and recites: 

> " _The gray rain-curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it. White shores and the beyond. A far green country under a swift sunrise._ "

Zayn goes quiet, and the only thing that can be heard is the crackling of the fire. He plays with a loose thread on his sleeve, and he lowers his voice. "If you find the people in charge, do you think they'd send you to a place like that?" 

"I don't know," Harry looks at him. "That's what scares me. Everything's so different from what I imagined, so I'm not sure what to expect. But everything's like that, isn't it? You think things will turn out a certain way, but it never does. So I don't know why I thought it'd be different in the afterlife." 

"You think this is purgatory? You think if we serve our time, we'll move on?" 

"Maybe. The Bible talks about a type of purgatory, doesn't it? Maybe all non-Christians are doomed to a Christian hell, just because it would be hilarious, and the higher powers have a sense of humor." 

"And where would Christians go?" 

"An endless gay cruise." 

Zayn snorts. "You should be in charge of people's afterlife. You'd get very creative with it, I think." 

"I would," Harry picks up a stick and tosses it in the flame. "I'd send you to a place with better french fries and shakes." 

"And white shores and beyond?" 

"White shores and beyond." 

\- - - 

When they wake up the next morning, Niall is gone. 

Zayn is panicking, and he shouts Niall's name until his voice is hoarse. He's tired, and he wants to cry because losing his best friend along with everything else is more than he can take. People here can't smile, but they sure can cry, as he discovers when he's sobbing into Harry's shoulder. They stay at this campsite for a few more hours, but eventually, they have to leave. Harry drives, and Zayn curls up in his seat and goes to sleep. 

They stop at a diner, and sip bitter coffee, which unfortunately stays bitter no matter how much sugar they put in it. Zayn's eyes are red, but he's feeling a little better. Maybe Niall had his own agenda. Maybe he somehow disappeared from this world to be in a better place. Harry keeps his arm tightly around Zayn, and he doesn't let go the entire time they're sitting in that booth, like he means to tell him that he won't disappear too. 

The two of them continue on with their journey, and it starts to feel like more of a roadtrip with two friends rather than a search for answers. They stop at stands on the side of the road, picking up little trinkets like wind chimes or little booklets of poetry in old English that they can barely understand, and they eat lunch in diners, sharing big plates of soggy fries that Zayn actually starts to enjoy. Sometimes he forgets he's dead. He looks into Harry's eyes, and he can tell that Harry forgets too, but when his vibrant green eyes turn a little dull, it means reality has crept back in. 

\- - - 

Zayn and Harry stumble across the most curious thing. They find a large camp just on the outskirts of one of the towns, and it's made up of approximately fifty or so people. The most fantastic part about this discovery is that all of these people are searching for the exact same thing. A better place. 

Their leader for all intents and purposes is a man named Liam. Well, more of a boy, really, and he tells Zayn and Harry that he's been here for about a year and a half, and hasn't stopped looking for a way out since then. For a while, he didn't have a permanent residence, since being stagnant could end up in hopelessness and failure. But they've set up camp here for a while, occasionally going into town for supplies, and going out in groups to pursue any leads. Living in town means giving up, but living like this and always on the go, it means they haven't stopped fighting for their lives. 

The tents all surround a large bonfire, which is dwindling down to crackling lights, but as night falls, the campers feed logs into the fire, and it becomes a large, dancing flame. Everyone sort of gravitates to it, speaking in low voices, talking of hope, of possible plans out of here, and rumors of the people in charge. They all may be dead, but they don't give up on life, and it's the strangest way to word it, but it makes sense to Zayn. 

He's in his tent alone, flipping through a tattered poetry book, when Harry sticks his head in. 

"Come out. I want to show you something," his eyes are illuminated by the small lamp, and he looks like he wants to smile, but he just quickly disappears outside. 

Zayn shuts his book, and crawls out of the tent after Harry. They make their way past the other tents, and they continue walking until they're passing an old abandoned church where the campers have weekly meetings, or use as sanctuary from bad weather. They don't stop until they reach the beach, which baffles Zayn because he had no idea they were near the ocean. 

"How'd you know this was here?" he asks Harry. 

"I was doing a bit of exploring, seeing what surrounds the campsite, and here it was. Crazy, right? You'd usually see the ocean from a ways off," Harry sits down, kicks off his shoes, and digs his toes into the sand. "What if this beach just appeared for us?" 

"Is that possible?" 

"Everything's possible here." 

Harry rests his head against Zayn's shoulder, and Zayn feels that familiar stirring that's been happening for a while now, especially when Harry comes close. It's been something that he wants to ignore, but every time it happens, it comes on a little stronger. It's inconvenient, and he doesn't have time for this, but there are certain things that can't be helped. 

"When I was alive," Zayn says, "I'd go to the beach often. But I wouldn't walk on the sand, or into the water. I'd just go on the pier, and take photos of anything I found interesting. I mostly liked how the sun and the moon looked on the water's surface. It reminded me of Monet's _Impression, Sunrise_ , and other impressionist paintings, but it was... real. And the reality of it was so huge to me. I don't know why it meant so much." 

Harry pulls back and looks at him, then he reaches out and brushes his fingertips against Zayn's cheek, which causes an intense explosion in his stomach, so unlike the usual stirring. He leans into Harry's touch, and he finds that his fingertips, and the way they trace along his skin is the most comforting thing he's felt since he's been here. 

"You're alive," Harry whispers. "So don't ever tell me that you're not. I can see you, I can feel you, and you're warm, and you're... you're just the most alive person I've ever met." 

Zayn almost feels a smile tug on his lips, but it's not quite there. And it's such a shame because here's this boy, possibly the most beautiful boy he's ever seen, telling him he's alive in a dead world. He has everything he could ever want, and he can't even smile. 

They sit there, underneath the starless sky, Harry's fingers still grazing over Zayn's skin like it's a map and he's tracing over roads without a destination. It's the most intimate thing Zayn has ever felt, and he can't help himself when he leans in, waiting for a sign, an opening, anything. When he hears Harry's breath hitch, and sees his eyes soften, it's enough for him to close the distance between them. 

Their lips touch, and it breathes new life into him, sending a bolt of lightning through his body, and he swears he feels his heart beat. Harry's mouth is like the first taste of honey, sweet and overwhelming, making him forget what real sweetness tastes like. When they undress each other, it's all out of impulse, rushed and desperate, eager to release whatever pent up energy and feelings they had since the beginning. But as Harry's legs fall open, with Zayn nestled comfortably between him, that's when their thoughts come together. Their actions are more deliberate this time, but still as desperate, still as eager. 

Zayn has never done this before, not with another boy, and he finds that Harry hasn't either. They whisper apologies to each other in between kisses, wanting to laugh at the clumsiness of it all, but they don't stop because they _want_ this, and they have been wanting it ever since they watched the flames of their very first campfire slowly burn into the dirt, leaving them cloaked in darkness. Just them and their breathing. 

Everything is new, but not strange, and when Zayn finally inserts his fingers inside Harry, he's squirming, and bucking up into him, whimpering a series of " _pleasepleaseplease_ " until Zayn pulls his fingers out so he can spit into his palm, using his saliva as makeshift lube, coating the tip of his cock. He slides into Harry, but it's not without its difficulties, because Harry is digging his nails into Zayn's arm, telling him to "Wait..." before giving him a sign to keep going, but he hisses and says "Wait" again. Zayn is patient, and he thinks it's cute. 

Zayn gives a few experimental thrusts, and he groans at the feel of Harry's warmth and tightness sucking him in, so he moves a little quicker, a bit erratically without much of a rhythm. It's messy and clumsy, but Harry's bruised and plump lips are parted in ecstasy, and he's got a hand through Zayn's hair tugging on it. Everything about this is spontaneous and quick, but at the same time, calculated with much thought. There are many contradictions about them, and they just add this right behind "feeling alive in a dead place." 

\- - - 

The sun is rising, and Harry's head is on Zayn's chest. They haven't slept a wink, but they have never felt more awake, and they're afraid to leave this reality for something lesser in a dream, which is the first time for the both of them. This dead world has become better than their dreams. 

When Zayn looks at the ocean, it almost looks like white shores and beyond. 

\- - - 

There are rumors of sightings of the people in charge several miles from here, and Harry is busy planning the next trip out with a group. 

"Why don't you tell him?" Liam says to Zayn, and he looks pointedly at Harry. 

"Tell him what?" Zayn asks. 

"That you're in love with him." 

\- - - 

The group is supposed to be gone for only a few hours, so Zayn isn't too worried. But when the cars don't return to the campsite until the next day, he looks frantically for Harry who isn't among them. They avoid Zayn's eyes, and they mumble something about losing Harry, and how they scoured the entire town for him, but he just somehow vanished into thin air. 

First Niall, and now Harry. 

Zayn is pretty sure his heart doesn't work anymore, but it breaks into a million pieces, and whatever life that was left inside him had vanished completely. He stumbles into the tent he shared with Harry, and he grips tightly on to his pillow, still smelling traces of his scent as he tries to convince himself that Harry will be back. Maybe he found a clue, and couldn't abandon it. Maybe he'll come back with all the answers. But in the back of Zayn's mind, he knows Harry is gone from this world. This dark, dead world that, for a while, almost seemed like heaven. 

He gladly succumbs to his dreams that night, and he hopes it'll serve as a temporary relief, but he knows it will all come rushing back in the morning. He should've seen this coming. Death is no better than life, and the worst part is that there's no quick way out of this mess. Zayn accepts the fact that he's doomed to remain in this shadowy realm, forever carrying the emptiness only Harry can fill. 

_Being with Harry_ , Zayn thought. _Was like endless summertime._

\- - - 

When Zayn wakes up, everything feels different. He can't open his eyes right away, and he feels tired, sluggish, and heavy. He hears a faint beeping sound that's similar to a heart monitor, and when he finally opens his eyes, all he sees are charts on white walls, an IV, and bandages wrapped around his wrists. He can hear his mother's quick chatter, high-pitched and clearly in tears, while his father's low, calm voice reassures her. And when he looks for the source, he sees them through the small crack of the open door, speaking to a doctor out in the hall. 

He's alive. 

He hears a faint groan across the room, and through his fuzzy vision, he sees a figure stretched out on the bed. The boy is stirring, and waking up, and when Zayn's vision finally sharpens, he nearly feels his heart stop at the sight of big green eyes staring at him. 

"Zayn..." Harry whispers. 

Their gazes lock, and they smile. 

-+-+-+-+-+ 

Meanwhile, back in the afterlife, Niall is in a clean, white suit, sitting at a desk with two files laid out in front of him belonging to Zayn Malik and Harry Styles. He knew there was something about these two, and after much review and debate between him and the rest of his team, they settled on a conclusion. 

He slipped the files in a drawer labeled simply as " _Alive_ " and he shut it while mumbling to himself, "It helps to have friends in high places."


End file.
